


#13: Expect the Seat In Front of You to Recline. Plan Accordingly.

by Knitwritezombie (Missa_G)



Series: 100 Rules for Adults (That Clint Barton Never Learned) [13]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Airplanes, M/M, Mention of injuries, screaming toddlers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-20 00:21:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2408285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missa_G/pseuds/Knitwritezombie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Phil travel commercial to visit Phil's mom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#13: Expect the Seat In Front of You to Recline. Plan Accordingly.

Clint grunted as the passenger in front of him shifted again, sending the reclined seat back bouncing against his bruised knees at the same time the kid in the seat behind him hurtled herself against the back of Clint’s seat with a wail of unhappiness, causing a roll of nausea in response to the pain in his back (he’d maybe exaggerated about how little he’d needed the pain killers that morning). 

“Tell me again why we’re flying commercial and why we couldn’t spring for first class seats?” he complained through clenched teeth as he tried to regulate his breathing so he didn’t puke and make himself (and Phil) even more miserable.

“Because we’re not on a mission, no matter that Fury basically ordered us to take a vacation while we healed,” Phil said dryly, his right arm in a sling to support a broken clavicle and a boot on his left leg for the fractured ankle. “And because my mother thinks I’m a government accountant who makes a decent living, but certainly can’t afford cross-country first class airplane tickets,” he said, wincing as his own seat bounced in time with the screaming child. “Although,” he said dryly. “I may let you work those puppy-dog eyes at the check in counter on the way back and see if we can get upgraded.”

Clint smiled tiredly. “Deal.” His own injuries weren’t too bad, just numerous. He was mostly just bruised and battered, Phil having taken the brunt of the injuries this time around. The last op had gone pear shaped quickly, and Fury, knowing them both, had ordered them to go away while on medical leave, so they didn’t sneak into the building and try to work. He did his best to conceal his grimace as the menace behind them continued to thrash around mid-tantrum, but must’ve failed because Phil’s expression shifted.

“Are you sure you’re alright to travel?” he asked.

“Medical signed off, didn’t they?” Clint deflected. “I just need to stretch out,” he said at Phil’s look. The toddler behind them wailed again. “And some Advil.” 

Phil reached across with his left hand and gave Clint’s a squeeze. “After she feeds us, Mom will insist we take a nap. Just a couple more hours,” he promised.

Clint squeezed back and nodded as the tray table he’d pulled down bounced off his knees again. “Next time, I’m commandeering a jet,” he grumbled, as he lifted his book and watered-down orange juice from the tray table and flicked it back up to its lock position. 

“You might want to hold on to that sentiment until after you meet my mother,” Phil said dryly with a smile.


End file.
